Never Going Back Again
by FifiDoll
Summary: Warning: contains rape. Karofsky rapes Sam and Puck comes to the rescue. WIP, contains both KarofskySam and PuckSam.


It was the end of the school year and Sam was packing up his locker in the locker room, stuffing his sports gear until training started for football in the fall. If he'd even be able to afford it, that is. Activities were expensive in high school, and Bieste was talking about getting new uniforms, which wouldn't be cheap. With a sigh, Sam stuffed his old running shoes away and looked in at his empty locker. It was bittersweet, especially since he didn't know if he'd be playing football again. "Sup fairy?" a rough voice behind him pulled him from his thoughts.

He spun around quickly, his nerves on edge as he was met face to face with Karofsky. The guy had been pretty nice all the way up until prom, and out in the halls as well (because Santana kept a very close eye on him of course). In the locker room, he was a different story. His anger multiplied every time he had to be nice to someone in the halls, it seemed, and he was downright dangerous in the locker rooms. Sam's heart began to race as his eyes darted around the room, quickly observing that they were, unfortunately, alone. "What do you want?" Sam asked defensively.

In one swift movement, Karofsky's arms were flying out towards Sam's chest and Sam felt himself falling backwards into the lockers. He winced at the feeling of a combination lock hitting his spine. There would definitely be a bruise there tomorrow. Shaking the pain off, his eyes met Karofsky's and he glared venomously, hoping to get the bully to leave him alone. It didn't work, though, and instead Karofsky smirked and asked, "What's the matter? You scared?"

Sam pushed back, but he was no match for Karofsky. Dark, beady eyes darted down Sam's body as Karofsky pushed him up against the lockers, their bodies flush together. Sam's breathing was ragged as he felt the most horrifying thing in the world at that moment; Karofsky's hard on against his leg. This was all so fucked up and Sam couldn't wrap his mind around what was happening.

His mind swam so much he barely struggled when Karofsky started ripping at Sam's clothes, tugging them roughly over his head and slamming his head against the lockers in the process. It took a few moments for Sam's eyesight to focus once more, and when he did, he saw Karofsky's big, meaty hands unbuttoning his own jeans while his eyes raked over Sam's very naked body.

Sam's skin was already littered with little red marks, the beginnings of bruises, where Karofsky had been manhandling him. When Sam's brain finally caught up and comprehended exactly what was coming, he panicked. He tried to scoot to one side where he saw his letterman's jacket on the floor, just waiting to cover him up and hide him from this monster that was Karofsky. It didn't work, though. Karofsky's strong hand wrapped around his arm and jerked him roughly back. "No. You don't get to run away. You get to stay here and take it like the fairy you are," Karofsky barked angrily.

He pushed Sam towards the bench and bent him over it before Sam could even fight back. When he did start to struggle though, Karofsky just bent his own body over Sam's, pinning him painfully to the bench, restricting his breathing. His dick pressed up against Sam's ass and he ground down one, two, three times, groaning in Sam's ear as he did so.

Sam felt sick to his stomach as Karofsky's big body moved against his own, making those noises and touching him where didn't want to be touched. It felt so wrong and Sam fought the urge to cry. Instead, he shouted out for help, his voice cracking as fear filled his voice. "Help!" he screamed. "HELP!"

"Shut the fuck up," Karofsky growled in Sam's ear, one of his hands flying around to cover Sam's mouth.

If it was hard to breathe before, it was nothing compared to now; Karofsky's hands were huge and covered his mouth and pressed painfully against his nose, making breathing almost impossible. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest as Karofsky kept moving against Sam, his hard dick sliding against Sam's ass, Sam's chest still painfully compressed against the bench. Sam let out a whimper and Karofsky chuckled, removing his hand slowly as he said, "Yeah, you keep your mouth shut or next time I might not let go."

Sam breathed in large gulps of air, his lungs stinging at the intrusion of clean, fresh air. He struggled lightly against Karofsky, just to test the waters, but found himself with his face slammed against the bench, a small trickle of blood now running from his nose. "Don't fucking move, Evans," Karofsky seethed, his breath putrid and warm against Sam's neck.

He backed away slowly, his hands now prying at Sam's ass experimentally. It's uncomfortable, and Sam feels exposed and vulnerable. When Karofsky presses a finger in, Sam tries to scoot away, the pain of dry skin against dry skin too much for him to handle. "Does it hurt, pansy boy?" Karofsky taunted, his breath high and singsong, like Sam's pain was amusing.

Sam's body screamed at him, telling him to get away, to get Karofsky out of him and to _run_. Karofsky didn't move, though, and Sam feared for his life. If he moved again, who knows what Karofsky would do to him. Sam blinked away the tears that were welling in his eyes, painting wet streaks down his face, reminding him of the pain with each droplet on the bench in front of him. "Stop," he whimpered, just loud enough for Karofsky to hear. "Please, stop. I'll do anything."

The tears never stopped – if anything, they were fuel for Karofsky's fire. Sam was relieved when Karofsky's finger disappeared, and for a minute he thought he was going to be left alone. His ass stung with the roughness of it all, and Sam took a few breaths to calm himself. Just when he thought he'd be able to get away, Sam felt strong hands on his face, directing his head to the side where he found Karofsky's dick rubbing against his face.

Wincing, Sam tried to turn his head away, but Karofsky's firm grip kept him there. "Open up," Karofsky said with a dark laugh. "Open that big mouth of yours and let's see what it can do."

Sam pursed his lips together, fighting the intrusion, until Karofsky prodded two fingers in and forced his jaw open. It hurt, and Sam whimpered as his muscles went slack and he opened his mouth wide. "There we go," Karofsky smiled, malice dripping from his words.

Sam forced his eyes shut and he didn't move his mouth at all. If Karofsky was going to do this, Sam wouldn't do anything to help. Karofsky must have figured it out, because when Sam didn't suck, he got _pissed_. Angrily, Karofsky took Sam's hair into his fingers, knotting it roughly and tugging at it, fucking Sam's mouth without reserve. Each time Karofsky's dick hit the back of his throat, Sam just wanted to die. It hurt, and it was so rough, and it was hard enough not to throw up before Karofsky was doing this, never mind during. "C'mon lady lips, suck it," Karofsky urged, tugging Sam's hair, forcing his mouth further around his dick. "You'll regret it if you don't."

It took all of Sam's energy not to bite Karofsky; if he did, things would probably only get worse. He winced as Karofsky tugged again at his hair, and Sam vowed to cut his hair short after this. A string of saliva trickled down his chin and Sam felt absolutely disgusting. His tongue flitted out for a moment to try to stop himself from drooling even more, and Karofsky shuddered above him. Dread filled Sam as he thought about how much Karofsky was getting off on this. "Shit," Karofsky muttered, and for a minute his grip loosened.

_No, no_, Sam thought over and over, _There is no way he's doing that in my mouth._ Sam pleaded inside his head, hoping to be spared at least that little bit of humiliation. Karofsky pulled away and looked down at Sam, smirking at the mess he'd caused. Strings of saliva ran down Sam's chin, down onto the floor and the bench below him. "There you go," Karofsky laughed, moving to position himself behind Sam again.

"Seriously, Karofsky, _please_," Sam begged. He gasped at the feeling of Karofsky's dick pressing at his ass and pleaded louder, "Stop it dude, come on."

Karofsky didn't listen, though. He just pressed at Sam's hole, forcing his way inside as Sam let out a groan of pain. It was all way too dry and he felt like he was being torn in half. Karofsky wasn't _that_ impressive, but still – it was all unwelcome and it hurt like hell. The tears were falling down Sam's face again, the pain almost unbearable.

He didn't even wait for Sam to adjust before he began moving; everything seemed to be slicker now and Sam wasn't sure why. Karofsky was so caught up in what he was doing he didn't even notice the blood now dripping onto the floor between them, slicking Sam up inside and getting rid of some of the friction. Too bad it didn't get rid of the pain, though. Sam whimpered, gripping the bench until his knuckles were white, begging for it all to end so he could just run and hide.

When Karofsky's heavy breathing became littered with grunts and groans, Sam knew the end was near. He told himself to just stay calm, that it would be over soon, but he couldn't stop. He was pleading with Karofsky and protesting and begging him to stop – the words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, salty tears dripping onto his lips and tongue and the taste combined with the mess of it all just made him want to vomit.

Sam felt warmth spreading through his ass accompanied by a long, loud groan from behind him and he knew it was over. He felt disgusting and used and the bile was rising in his throat, but he only had to hold out a little bit longer. Karofsky was going to leave now, and it would be done – in the past, never to be brought up again.

He hissed as Karofsky pulled out of him, the searing pain now just a dull ache after enduring it for so long. Sam didn't move as Karofsky cleaned himself off on Sam's shirt and tossed it to the side. Instead, Sam focused on getting his breathing back to normal and keeping himself from throwing up, at least until Karofsky left. The door to the locker room opened and Sam buried his face, embarrassed at the thought of being found the way he was. Karofsky panicked and spun around to find himself eye to eye with Noah Puckerman. "What the hell is going on here, Karofsky?" Puck asked defensively, still far enough away he couldn't see Sam.

Karofsky pointed over behind the locker bay and told Puck, "Take this as a warning for you and your glee club fags. Once I break up with Santana, you all had better watch out."

He glared at Puck and left the locker room, leaving Puck confused. He slowly wandered over to behind the locker bay to figure out what Karofsky was talking about, and his stomach dropped. Sam was draped over a bench, body limp and covered with red marks and bruises. Tears pooled on the floor beneath him, and further behind him drops of blood littered the ground. "What the fuck did he do to you?" Puck asked, torn between helping Sam and running into the hall to kick Karofsky's ass.

Sam had never been more humiliated in his life, and on top of it all now one of his friends had to see him so vulnerable and fucked up? It was awful and he just wanted to curl up and die. Puck reached out to try to help Sam, move him, at least get some clothes on him, but the blonde kept shying away like Puck's touch was poison. "Woah, there, come on, dude, I won't hurt you," Puck said, trying his best to keep his temper in check.

Slowly Sam reached in front of him and pushed himself up and off the bench, pain shooting through his body with ever millimeter he moved. Puck disappeared into the showers and returned with some towels, both wet and not. He handed them to Sam and turned away. "I just want a shower," Sam muttered, wiping his face off with one of the towels.

"No, dude, we're taking you to the hospital and getting that asshole kicked out of here for good," Puck said firmly.

Sam sighed and said, "I don't want to do this right now."

He reached out for his shirt, but didn't pick it up when he saw that Karofsky had used it to clean up. Sam winced and asked, "Do you have an extra shirt or something? All I have in my bag is my jersey."

Puck looked down at himself; he was wearing a button down over a tank top. He quickly shrugged off the button down and handed it to Sam. Sam took it without a word and slipped into it before reaching out for his boxers and jeans. They were bunched up on the floor and he winced as he bent down to get them. "Hold up, dude," Puck said, rushing towards Sam with a look of pity on his face.

Blood was quickly drying on Sam's body and he didn't need to be staining the few clothes he had left. Slowly Puck reached out, gingerly pressing the damp towel to Sam's skin. "You don't need to do that," Sam snapped, reaching out for Puck's hand.

"Calm down, dude," Puck said softly, his eyes locking with Sam's. "Just…relax, okay? You can't even see it from your angle anyway, so let me. The less you get on your clothes, the better."

Sam tried not to think about how awkward it all seemed as Puck gently dabbed at his skin, wiping up the blood. It didn't take long, and it was obvious that Sam was in pain. "There," Puck said, standing up and tossing the bloody towel in the garbage. "Now get dressed and let's get you out of here."

Slowly Sam pulled on his boxers and jeans, the pain from the simple act of bending over reminding him of everything he'd just experienced. Tears started falling from his eyes as the memories flooded him, the fact that Puck was in the room completely forgotten. "Hey," Puck said gently, reminding Sam of his presence. "It's okay, dude."

Sam shook his head and looked down at the floor; he was so weak and dirty and gross and a million other things that Puck probably didn't want to see. He tried to hold back the tears as he looked around the room for the last of his things. "Sam," Puck's voice echoed throughout the room.

He froze but didn't turn around to look at Puck; it was all so humiliating he didn't think he could bear to look _anyone_ in the eye. A gentle tug at his shoulder coaxed Sam around, though, and he found himself facing Puck. "Dude, Karofsky's a dick and we're going to get him out of here for good," Puck told him confidently, his hands on Sam's shoulders, reaffirming everything. "You'll get cleaned up and we'll just…move on. It's gonna be okay, dude."

Sam sniffled, thankful the tears were residing. Strong arms found their way around Sam, and he fell into Puck's embrace so naturally it scared him. His own arms wound weakly around Puck, pulling him close, the last wave of tears littering Puck's shoulder as he did so. They stood there for a moment, Sam losing himself in Puck's warm embrace, before Puck broke the silence and asked, "You ready to go?"

Slowly Sam stepped away and picked up his bag. "Yeah," he nodded, wiping the tears from his face. "Let's go."

Puck nodded, his expression steely and determined, as they walked out of the locker room. Things were going to be okay, he would be sure of it.


End file.
